


and i want you from somewhere within

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is in love, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining, bokuto is oblivious, some side kuroken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9533795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The ball drops. According to the laws of physics, its shatter is inevitable.Or the growing up together au nobody asked for.





	

The first time they meet it's on the school playground at sunset.  
  
The jungle gym is painted in brilliant hues of gold, making up for the chipped blue paint and rust flaking off the bars. The evening is quiet, and the night is waiting to blanket the sleepy town in a quilt of tiny stars against the noir.  
  
Not Akaashi though, because he's rifling through the abandoned sandbox searching for the action figure one of his classmates ripped from his grasp and stuffed in here. He sighs in resignation, clapping sand off his jeans and sitting on the grass. He looks at the setting sun with little interest.  
  
His mom must be wondering where he is. After all, his curfew is when the little street lamps on his side of the road all flicker to life. Right now, they're lit about halfway.  
  
He gives up on finding the toy and is ready to head home, but near the slide hears sad sniffles and he cocks his head curiously. An animal, maybe?  
  
He stands up and stretches before cautiously stepping over to the green curly slide. His sneakers crunch on the mulch loudly and he silently reprimands himself. Stealthy, is what he's aiming for.  
  
It's not an animal. It's a person.  
  
A boy his age is sitting on the edge of the slide, his bony legs tucked into his chest as he sniffles pathetically. A head of messy, spiky black hair is burrowed into his arms which are covered with bruises and scratches.  
  
"Are you okay?" Akaashi asks.  
  
The boy looks up sharply, golden eyes wide in surprise. His tan face is half shaded by the rapidly receding sunlight and it makes the brilliant color of his irises rival the streaks of gold painting the sky. He looks a little curious, and Akaashi's never seen him before.  
  
"Yeah. M'fine." The boy whispers with another sniffle.  
  
"You should head home before it gets dark." Akaashi blurts out, scratching the back of his head. The boy's eyes slide away from his to study a pebble near his shoe.  
  
It's quiet for a moment before Akaashi tries again. "I'm heading home now. Do you maybe want to—"  
  
"Yeah!" he says happily, springing up from his slump so fast Akaashi nearly misses it. The sudden change in his demeanor is dizzying, and Akaashi blinks at him in shock before he melts his expression into one of indifference.  
  
"Come on then." He holds his hand out to the boy like it's a reflex, and said takes it with no qualms, rising a little unsteadily to his feet. Akaashi goes to pull back from the warm grip but the boy holds on a little tighter. He decides he'll let him have this.  
  
"I'm Bokuto Koutarou. What about you? I haven't seen you before. But maybe that's because I just moved here. I'm not good at making friends." The words are spoken with such livelihood it makes Akaashi's brain numb. Maybe this is a mistake. Still, he finds his eagerness a tad bit endearing and decides to indulge him.  
  
"Akaashi Keiji." he says flatly. Bokuto makes an 'ooh' sound.

  
"That's a pretty name." he says earnestly. They're on the street now, their backs to the playground. They walk in a comfortable silence only occasionally (frequently) interrupted by Bokuto's excited rambling.

  
When they have to part ways, Akaashi doesn't bother asking him why he was crying, but he also secretly hopes they'll see each other again. Bokuto waves at him with a big smile, and Akaashi sends back a half hearted salute before his figure dissolves into the inky black of the night.  
  
When he gets in bed (after a very hefty scolding from his mother, of course), he lies awake thinking about bony knees and golden eyes.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The second time they meet is the first day of school.  
  
It's like second nature for Bokuto to gravitate over to him, launching him into a conversation about new manga releases and cereal box toys. Akaashi lets him sweat it out and listens with reasoned interest, eyes occasionally flitting towards the scratches on his arms.

  
It isn't until they're pulling out their bentos that he decides to ask.  
  
"Oh," Bokuto waves dismissively with his chopsticks, "there are just some mean boys in my neighborhood. I'm kind of skinny, you see? So, they like to pick on me." The casualty in which he admits his misfortune is a little saddening.  
  
"I'm sorry." Akaashi says. He's not the best at comforting other people.  
  
"It's okay. I'm going to be big and strong like my dad one day, you see?" Bokuto grins, a tooth missing in the far right corner of his mouth. His smile is infectious, and Akaashi finds his lips tilting a little too.  
  
"Woah! You look so pretty when you smile!" Bokuto says like it's nothing. Akaashi flushes beet red, and turns back to his bento, shoveling rice in his mouth furiously.  
  
They're inseparable after that. Mundane sand castle building at recess turns into movie nights at his house, and soon Akaashi is calling Mrs. Bokuto auntie and his mother is making extra plates for his friend at the table.  
  
They both grow taller, the seasons change, and the sun rises and sets.  
  
Suddenly, they're in middle school. Bokuto is a little more than self-assured now, and he has no qualms in letting people know so. His confidence, however uncalled for, is earnest and simple, attracting girls and boys of all sorts to him.  
  
Watching him from a distance—from a quiet corner of a classroom, gaze always hidden behind the frayed pages of a book—he looks as cool as ever, grinning away in an excitement Akaashi can't seem to develop for school. It's effortless for him to be like this in front of everyone.  
  
But not _him._ _  
_  
Behind the oozing confidence and the growing bones; the slow steady trickle of muscle in places that used to have fat—Akaashi has brushed away his friend’s tears of frustration and insecurity.  
  
Bokuto has always reserved his honesty for him, and him only.  
  
So, when he meets Kuroo it's a bit of a shock.  
  
Kuroo and Kenma come like a package deal. While Kuroo is the spotlight, basking in attention from left and right, Kenma is the inky darkness of the stage. They're very close, always holding hands or sharing little moments of domesticity that make Akaashi feel like an intruder. Bokuto doesn't notice (to be fair, that's just one among the many things that seem to fly over his head).  
  
He never minds their presence, because Kuroo brings out the best and worst in Bokuto, while Akaashi only serves as an inhibitor. It's easy to get on with Kenma despite his shy demeanor, because they're both the type of people that can communicate as little as possible and still get the message across.  
  
The whole second summer of middle school is spent with them chasing after Kuroo and Bokuto with little resolve, cleaning up their messes and finding creative excuses to explain their misfortunes.  
  
High school is the one that hurts like a bitch.  
  
The month before the new term Bokuto flies off to the countryside for his sister’s wedding, Kenma and Kuroo choose to go to a high school in Tokyo, and Akaashi writes to them both hopelessly.  
  
He's never realizes how lonely a break can be without friends, and the prospect of starting a new school year without Bokuto makes him sad. He knows, _knows_ it's selfish.  
  
But like Bokuto heard his a thousand yard prayer, he's suddenly back in town the day before school, knocking on Akaashi's door as casual as ever.  
  
The boy on Akaashi's doorstep is presumably _not_ Bokuto. Because he doesn't remember his skin ever being that tan, or his eyes ever being that gold, or him ever being that tall, or his arms ever being that defined. And most surprising of all, his hair is shockingly silver. Puberty hit him like a truck—in just a month.  
  
Akaashi invites him inside wordlessly, and ignores the weak flutter of his heart as Bokuto embraces him tightly.  
  
He gets his first girlfriend two weeks later, Hana-chan, and Akaashi is irritated all the time. Bokuto comes to his house after school with a dopey smile that never fails to trigger Akaashi, and he spends the rest of their shared time with a half scowl and a determination to ignore Bokuto's whining.  
  
He's not usually someone to be jealous, and he chalks it up as just being unaccustomed to seeing Bokuto so fond of anyone else except for him and Kuroken.  
  
He tells Kenma this over texts one day, confessing his unresolved anger in a flurry of keyboard presses. He's not even sure if it's coherent, because his eyes are a little bleary with tears after seeing Bokuto kiss his girlfriend before their second block.  
  
Kenma replies, cooly: _maybe you like him._ _  
_  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

 

High school hurts like a bitch, because it's the first time he realizes he might not look at Bokuto as a friend, and that makes everything more complicated.

  
"You know, for a second year, you're really invested in your future." Bokuto tells him one day, smacking a mosquito off his arm.  
  
That's right. He's a second year now, and Bokuto's a third, and the summer has taken over their town with fierce temperatures and stinging rays of sunshine.  
  
They're outside. Akaashi’s taking a practice entrance exam for an academy his father recommended, and Bokuto's being... Bokuto.  
  
Akaashi's sporting his mother's floppy sunhat, which Bokuto not so subtly takes a picture of and sends to their group chat with Kuroo and Kenma. Kuroo replies that he'll use it as blackmail, only to later admit he looks really good anyway.  
  
Akaashi gets that a lot recently. Apparently, he's what his classmates consider a "pretty boy."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with starting early." Akaashi replies, simply, Bokuto smacks another mosquito off his arm.  
  
Akaashi's eyes flicker up to follow the movement of his arm, trailing over the smooth, tan skin until they're lingering on his hands. Capable hands, Akaashi notes.  
  
"Maybe I should have done that." Bokuto wonders, finally relenting after having to smack off another mosquito and tugging on his jacket. Akaashi can already see his forehead grow damp with sweat. He tosses him a paper fan and Bokuto grins.  
  
"I tried telling you to." Akaashi defends weakly, shutting his booklet when he realizes he can't get much done in the presence of his friend. Bokuto pouts petulantly, his tongue sticking out a little in the corner.  
  
It's Akaashi's turn to smack a mosquito off himself.  
  
"To be fair, we didn't talk much last year." Bokuto says, the nervous flicker of his gold eyes betraying the casual tone.  
  
They’ve never talked about it; the ridge that grew between them last year. Akaashi would sooner die than reveal why he pulled away.

(Akaashi came back, as always, because Hana-chan broke Bokuto’s heart and left him with the pieces.)

  
"We were both busy," he settles on saying. It's not exactly a lie.  
  
Bokuto hums. "Did you get accepted into Toshida?" Akaashi asks. As soon as the name is out of his mouth it's tense again, the air filling thickly with a feeling Akaashi can't quite name. Apprehension? Fear, maybe? Guilt?  
  
"...No." Bokuto answers.  
  
If Akaashi were different, if he wasn't so stupidly in love and overcome with pure relief that Bokuto isn't going to a university four hours away, he would have noticed the pregnant pause before the answer. The calm before the storm.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

 **To: Akaashi Keiji** **  
** **From: Kozume Kenma** **  
**  
Kuroo kissed me.  
  
**To: Kozume Kenma** **  
** **From: Akaashi Keiji** **  
**  
Is that a good or bad thing?  
  
**To: Akaashi Keiji** **  
** **From: Kozume Kenma** **  
**  
Good, I think.  
  
Akaashi shuts off his phone and stares out the window of the classroom. That's good, that's great, even. That's just peachy and dandy. Kenma just got what he always wanted and Akaashi is really fucking ecstatic for him.  
  
_It must be nice,_ he thinks bitterly, _to love and be loved._ In general, loving someone achievable would be great in this situation. Or maybe not loving someone at all.  
  
The thought is gone in an instant, because he's sure there is not a single life where he doesn't love Bokuto.  
  
As his heart turmoils, he spots Bokuto leaning on the edge of his chair, yapping excitedly to a pretty second year about the summer festival. They have plans to go together, and Akaashi prays he's not a second choice.  
  
He looks at the girl's face and subconsciously compares it to his. He's definitely got the win in this category. After all, he knows he's pretty. His dark hair is curly and wispy, his eyelashes are long and curled, and his nose is ski sloped and buttoned. He rivals her in almost everything, except the fact that she's a _girl_ and he's a _boy,_ and she undoubtedly has the attention he so desperately seeks.  
  
This is getting bad, he realizes. His feelings for Bokuto are on a whole other spectrum, and are rapidly increasing in size and intensity.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

  
The first time they kiss Bokuto is really drunk.

 

Kenma and Kuroo are visiting for a week, and of course getting the two together would entail some sort of mischief and alcohol, yet despite his premonition, Akaashi still finds himself dragged into their lucked out situations.  
  
Right now, a drunk Kuroo is clinging onto a sober Kenma, whose cheeks are red as his boyfriend keeps trying to pepper kisses all over his face. He loops Kuroo's arm around his shoulders, bows in apology to Akaashi, and leaves just like that.  
  
Akaashi knows how to deal with Bokuto when he's like this. After all, he only ever drinks when he's feeling particularly excited or when one of his girlfriends breaks his heart. The trick is not to get too close, or Bokuto will snap forward and wind his thick arms around his neck, dragging him down in a deathly embrace he can't wiggle out of until the morning sun arrives.  
  
"Akaashi," moans Bokuto, arm flying over to cover his face as he lies back against the park bench. They're at the same playground they met.  
  
"Let's head home, Bokuto." Akaashi urges him silently. He might have to text Kenma later and hope he can help him, because if Bokuto blacks out then they're both fucked.  
  
Before he can get a handle on the situation Bokuto's tan hand is closing over his wrist, tugging him down awkwardly on his knees beside him. Akaashi curses himself.  
  
"Hey," Bokuto says, gold eyes zeroing in on him. Akaashi looks away and mumbles out his own greeting. He can't handle Bokuto's eyes on him right now.  
  
"We should go back." Akaashi suggests again. Suddenly, Bokuto's hand is trailing up his neck to brush over his jawline and then cup his face. Akaashi lets out a stuttering breath, his heart hammering uncomfortably in his ribcage.  
  
"You're really pretty, you know?" Bokuto's voice drips into a suggestive whisper at the tail of his sentence, and Akaashi gets goosebumps despite the stuffy heat. He tries to pull away, but Bokuto's grip is iron.  
  
He settles for, "Thank you."  
  
It's not unlike his unabashed honesty when they were kids, but it still shocks him. He's suddenly grateful Bokuto is drunk right now, because he won't notice the horrid blush on his face.  
  
Bokuto's thumb swipes along the skin just above his cheekbone and suddenly they're really close—way too close. Was Akaashi subconsciously leaning in? No, the grip tightening minutely on his neck tells him Bokuto was drawing him in. But why?  
  
Suddenly, there are lips pressed on his, and he's half leaning on Bokuto over the bench and his knees hurt and so does his heart and worst of all Bokuto is drunk but it's—  
  
Perfect.  
  
He moves his lips against Bokuto's properly, thinking if it weren't for his own shot of sake earlier he probably wouldn't be confident enough to reciprocate. He feels a flash of hot tongue run along his bottom lip and his mouth slacks open, letting Bokuto lick him out until he's dizzy enough to see stars.  
  
Somewhere along the exchange his hands find their way in his silver hair, now streaked with black roots, tugging a little as Bokuto leans up. They pull apart with a wet smack, lips cherry red and faces flushed as they pant. Akaashi is so happy he could die, and Bokuto looks—  
  
Bokuto's looking at him distantly and unfamiliarly.  
  
"You sort of look like Hana-chan."  
  
Akaashi's heart drops.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

  
**To: Kozume Kenma** **  
** **From: Akaashi Keiji** **  
**  
Bokuto kissed me.  
  
**To: Akaashi Keiji** **  
** **From: Kozume Kenma** **  
**  
Is that a good or bad thing?  
  
**To: Kozume Kenma** **  
** **From: Akaashi Keiji** **  
**  
Bad.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

  
Bokuto doesn't remember. Or, if he does, he sure as hell never talks about it. Akaashi doesn't know if he's relieved or not. One thing he knows for sure, is that it hurts a hell of a lot worse than it did before.  
  
That's why he's on a train to Tokyo for a weekend. Without Bokuto.  
  
Kuroo doesn't question it, and Akaashi's really grateful Kenma hasn't told him anything.  
  
"Hey.” he croaks out when he sees the familiar pudding head waiting for him on the outskirts of the station. Kenma's always hated going inside and having to deal with the swarming crowds. It's fine though, because Kuroo makes up for it.  
  
God, Akaashi envies them.  
  
"Hi." Kenma says, holding out his hand. Akaashi takes it without question, and they stroll onto the city streets talking lazily about school. Kenma is sad Kuroo's graduating, but he's going to a university nearby so it's not too tragic.  
  
"What about you? Koutarou’s leaving." Kenma asks. Akaashi's grip on his hand tightens a little.  
  
Before he can answer he has to wrench Kenma away from walking into a pole. He barely looks up from his phone, still tapping away despite the obstruction.  
  
"He wants to go to Hossuk University." Akaashi replies. He hopes he can blame the tremble of his lips on the cold.  
  
Kenma looks up at him and blinks; surprised. "I thought he got accepted into Toshida?"  
  
The ball drops. According to the laws of physics, its shatter is inevitable.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

  
He spends that night smushed into Kenma's chest, letting the other run his hand through his hair as some crappy program plays in the background. If Kenma is bothered by the tears soaking into the fabric of his t-shirt, he never mentions it.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

  
When he gets back he doesn't talk to Bokuto for a week. His friend tries, knocking on his door and sending him a series of excited, unconcerned texts. Akaashi ignores them all.  
  
It's a Sunday when Bokuto finally catches him reading Hamlet on his back porch. He slips through that dumb gap where an apple tree used to be and corners Akaashi, his hands on his hips and his stare disapproving. He's serious.  
  
"What?" Akaashi doesn't know if he can have a civil conversation with him if he's looking into his eyes. After all, the last time they entrapped him in a kiss. He keeps his gaze firmly glued to the pages of the book.  
  
"You're avoiding me." Bokuto accuses.  
  
Akaashi flips a page for effect. "No, I'm not."  
  
"Yes, you are. You haven't been answering my texts and your mom keeps telling me you're sick except you're _not_ sick because when you're sick you always go to the market for milk bread." Bokuto snaps. It's rare that he gets annoyed like this, and Akaashi's eyes can't help sliding up to his in surprise.  
  
He never even knew Bokuto noticed that.  
  
"It's not fair for you to avoid me," Bokuto continues. Akaashi snaps.  
  
"It's also not fair that you got accepted into Toshida and you didn't even tell your best friend. The world's an unfair place, Bokuto-san."  
  
Hamlet is forgotten now, tossed aside on the grass as Akaashi stands up.  
  
"W-who..."  
  
"I went to go see Kenma." he explains, whirling around to stalk back in the house. He doesn't have to check to know that Bokuto is following. He can hear his angry footfalls behind him as slips his shoes off. The AC may cool his skin but it does little for the hot rage swirling around in his head.  
  
"I got accepted. I didn't say I was going." Bokuto defends. God, he's so shitty.  
  
"You lied! To my face!" It's Bokuto's turn to be surprised. Akaashi isn't usually expressive. He relies on his occasional wit to communicate whether or not he's feeling cheeky or genuinely annoyed, and he's sure he's never ever yelled at someone in the way he's doing now. Bokuto is the only exception, and that makes him crazy.  
  
"Akaashi..."  
  
"Why?" Akaashi's voice drops to a whisper, averting his stinging eyes to study the floorboards. There are scratches from when Bokuto and Akaashi tried to make paper garlands and accidentally stabbed into the wood with their scissors. If he turns around, he'll find a jar on the windowsill full of fresh daisies, once their go-to for catching fireflies.  
  
There are suddenly too many reminders of their childhood lounging around casually like furniture. Akaashi's skin itches.  
  
"I don't know." Bokuto says after a beat of silence. He's also staring at the floor. Does he notice the same things he does? Akaashi wonders. "I didn't know how I felt about it and telling you would have just made it more real."  
  
Akaashi's anger dissipates the minute his eyes land on Bokuto's face. It's twisted in conflict, eyes pained as he stares pleadingly at Akaashi.  
  
He wants to throw up at how selfish he's been, but he also wants to scream because Bokuto kissed him and it's all unfair.  
  
"Don't be angry with me." Bokuto is just short of begging.  
  
"I'm not." Akaashi says quickly, guilt dripping off his words. "l just want you to be happy." _With me._ "And if going to Toshida is what you want I'll support you." _Please don't go._ _  
_  
Bokuto gives him a watery smile, and steps forward to grip his wrist. It's the same way he tugged Akaashi over to kiss him, and he shuts his eyes; prays. He's being hugged tight into Bokuto's chest.  
  
He lets one tear shed.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

 

Tonight is the summer festival, and Kenma and Akaashi patiently wait at his house for the horrible duo to finish changing into their clothes. They're in town for the weekend, and with their arrival comes the promise of fried onigiri and a fireworks show. They go every year without fail, except this is the first year Kenma and Kuroo are going as a couple. It feels weird.  
  
"Prepare for trouble." Kuroo walks out into the hallway in his yukata—a sleek, granite black with red accents. Bokuto slides next to him, sporting a royal blue one with silver trim.  
  
"And make it double." he says, doing a ridiculous pose alongside Kuroo. Kenma snorts, his own yukata plain and simple. He still looks pretty though. Akaashi got his mom to braid his friend's hair behind his ears so his face is actually visible.  
  
Akaashi lets a little smile tug at his lips. "Bokuto-san, your sash is undone in the back." he comments. Kenma snorts again at the smiley faced boxers Bokuto sports under the yukata.  
  
"Why are you checking me out, Akaashi?" Bokuto sticks out his tongue and it's a joke, but Akaashi's heart still beats wildly. He forces a bored expression, trying to ignore Kenma's eyes boring into his face.  
  
_Way to be obvious._ _  
_  
Kuroo doesn't notice the exchange, and instead is urging Akaashi to change into his own yukata, pushing him towards his room where it lays on his bed. He shuts the door quietly behind him, hearing Kuroo and Bokuto's loud chatter filter through the crack under the door. He puts a hand on his chest, sighs, and goes to change.  
  
Once he's done he looks in the mirror. He's wearing a white floral one his mother bought him last week. He scowled at her for the feminine pattern, but she told him it'd help girls notice him, and he has someone in mind he can impress. The attempt is halfhearted, at best, but he hopes it'll work anyway.  
  
He ties the black sash and runs a hand through his hair uselessly.  
  
_"You're really pretty, you know?"_ Akaashi hears the echo in his mind, cheeks flushing. He wonders what he has to do to get Bokuto to look at him like that again.  
  
_"You look like Haha-chan."_ Just like that, the thought is gone, replaced by an ugly churn of his stomach that makes his mood drop.  
  
He walks out to his awaiting friends.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey," Bokuto catcalls, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Looking like a proper bride." Akaashi flushes as red as the sash on Kuroo's yukata.  
  
"Forget it. I'll use last year's." Akaashi goes to duck back into his room but Kenma's slender hand grips his gently, tugging him back.  
  
"You look nice." Kenma reassures him. Akaashi looks at him for a second and nods. He trusts his opinion.  
  
"Really nice." Kuroo echoes, grabbing his other hand. Bokuto makes a face at being left out of the loop and slips his arms around Akaashi's waist, his chin dropping on his shoulder. Akaashi is grateful the sleeves of the yukata are covering his ams, because wave after wave of goosebumps run up and down the skin.  
  
Kenma narrows his eyes imperceptibly and tugs Akaashi away, linking their arms and leading them ahead. He's sure Kuroo and Bokuto are blinking after them in confusion.  
  
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

  
The festival is as lively as always. Hundreds of stands full of games, goods, and food line the field next to the tree line. A little down the hill and away from the crowd is the river, lit by strings of red and white paper lanterns.  
  
Kenma is surprisingly not shrinking into himself too badly, but still grips the sash of Kuroo's yukata to not get lost in the swarms of people. They really haven't changed.  
  
Almost as if they hear his thoughts, Kuroo quickly presses a kiss to the top of Kenma's head. _That's_ new.  
  
Bokuto is tugging at his left arm in all sorts of directions, and he's lost count of how many 'look, Akaashi's and 'did you see that's he's exclaimed in the past twenty minutes.  
  
His belly is warm because he's surrounded by his friends and Bokuto won him some squid sticks.  
  
Later, twenty minutes before the fireworks, Kuroo and Kenma slink off somewhere without telling him. Akaashi doesn't mind, but Bokuto's doing that scratchy-chin thing when he's in deep thought.  
  
"Do you think it's weird?" Bokuto asks, gold eyes trained on the horizon. He looks strangely wistful, and Akaashi lets himself appreciate how attractive he really is.  
  
"Kuroo and Kenma?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Akaashi waits a moment before answering. "No. I think it's natural for them." Bokuto stays silent. "Do you?" he asks shyly.  
  
Bokuto looks at him, the soft light from the lanterns illuminating the smooth planes of his face. Akaashi wants to kiss him more than anything in the world, but he settles for scrunching his fists in the fabric of his yukata.  
  
"Nah. It's meant to be." Bokuto answers.  
  
Before they realize it, they're straying off to the side where the steps to the shrines begin. A few kids run past them wearing spirit masks and sparklers. Akaashi stares after them fondly. He remembers the first time they went to the festival together; remembers the warmth of Bokuto's small hand clasped in his.  
  
They stand at a clearing overlooking the river and the festival. Overhead is an inky sky full of tiny twinkling stars. How cliche.  
  
Bokuto ‘ooh's, plopping down on the soft grass and patting the spot next to him. Akaashi sits down a little nervously.  
  
"This is great for watching the fireworks. I'll text Kuroken to meet us here." Bokuto remarks, already happily tapping away at his phone. Akaashi sighs and looks off to the side.  
  
He feels a tap on his right shoulder and he looks back at Bokuto, who's suddenly really close. He remembers the park and lets out a hitched breath, leaning back a little. Bokuto grins, canines poking his bottom lip as he continues to stare at Akaashi.  
  
"What?" he asks, feigning annoyance.  
  
"You look really pretty tonight, you know?" Bokuto says.  
  
_"You look like Hana-chan."_ The pleasant queasiness he got from his butterflies erupts into an uncomfortable tight feeling. He scuttles away from the close proximity, wide eyed. He wants to cry—actually, he thinks he's crying.  
  
"Akaashi?" Bokuto's voice is concerned and he's reaching over, but Akaashi slaps his hands away and uselessly tries to scrub at his tears with his sleeves. It hurts so much to hear Bokuto call his name like that. It hurts to love him.  
  
"Stop." Akaashi pleads as Bokuto continues to ask if he's okay in that soft tone.  
  
"What—"  
  
"Do you even remember?" Akaashi's voice is sharp now. He doesn't know how to bite back without using venom, and he hates that he's still crying because he's really pissed off.  
  
"Remember what?" Bokuto's eyebrows raise.  
  
"When you kissed me? In the park? Seriously, Bokuto? And you told me I looked like Hana-chan which was the fucking icing on the cake." He stands up, fists clenched. Bokuto stays on the ground, immobilized, staring blankly at the spot where he was just sitting.  
  
"...I did what?" Bokuto asks emptily, still not looking up at Akaashi.  
  
"You kissed me, you fucking asshole! You kissed me and forgot about it!" Akaashi is well aware some passerby are looking up through the trees but he can't be bothered.  
  
Bokuto stands up and faces him, eyes pained in that same way. He reaches out to him but Akaashi takes a step back. He drops his hand.  
  
"You should go to Toshida." Akaashi continues. "Because I can't be near you without thinking of—"  
  
"Did I ruin it? Us?" Bokuto asks shakily.  
  
"No! I did. It's my fault." _With my dumb, girly crush._ _  
_  
"But I kissed y—"  
  
"That isn't why!"  
  
"How could it not be? What are you not telling me?" Bokuto's yelling now too, angry golden eyes boring holes into his. Akaashi's chest hurts so bad he thinks his ribs might be cracking.  
  
Akaashi's crying again. He wants to surgically remove his tear ducts. This stupid, unrequited love has made him so miserable he can barely breathe, but at the same time it's made him the happiest he's ever been. He realizes he has to tell him. Now or never, that sort of thing.  
  
"B-Because I'm in love with you. I love you. That's why it's my fault because I can't be friends with you without these terrible feelings getting in the way." Akaashi's voice trembles. His blood is rushing loud in his ears and his heart has never pounded so hard. His legs are screaming at him to run away; away from Bokuto and back to Kenma, who'll run his gentle fingers through his hair and tell him it's alright. Maybe even home to his mother, who knows how to make his miso soup just right and not too salty like his dad's.  
  
Bokuto is deathly silent, staring at him like he's grown three heads, and then he's _laughing,_ doubling over and clutching his stomach like Akaashi just told him the funniest joke in the world.

  
Akaashi is shocked—and then horrified.  
  
Bokuto thinks it's a joke, he realizes. He's running away before he can think twice, back down the steps and past the shrines he's wished on so many times. The one thing he wanted, he couldn't have.  
  
A hand is gripping his forearm and yanking him back and it's Bokuto, his gold eyes wide and apologetic as he tugs Akaashi into his chest. He fights it for a minute, but Bokuto's grip is iron and he gives up eventually. He slumps against his chest, wondering why every time they argue it ends in this. Can’t they just stay mad at each other?

  
Bokuto's just as selfish as he is.  
  
"You laughed at me." Akaashi's voice is muffled in the fabric of his yukata and he sounds like a whiney child. It's embarrassing.  
  
"I laughed because I was relieved." Bokuto says happily. He's way too casual for just having received a confession from his best friend, a _guy_ at that.  
  
_Wait_ . "Relieved?" Akaashi questions, pushing at Bokuto's chest so he can look at him properly. He's smiling at him fondly, eye soft as his hands lift and cup his face.  
  
"I accept your confession." he tells him before pressing their lips together. Akaashi is still for a minute, but soon he's tilting his chin up and kissing him back earnestly. His arms loop around Bokuto's neck and pull him closer desperately, and he smiles into the kiss as Bokuto's find their way on his hips. He's pretty sure they're tilting back, and yep, they're definitely falling now.  
  
Akaashi lands on his back with an oof. Bokuto grins down at him madly. He can't help but return a shy small smile before their lips are connecting again. He feels that same wetness teasing his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, sucking on Bokuto's tongue passionately as his hands run up and down his broad back.  
  
He hears the telltale sign of pops and fizzles and suddenly the grass and trees are lit with hues of orange, blue, yellow, red, gold. They're kissing under a starry sky and fireworks, and it's horridly cliche but Akaashi has never been happier in his entire life.  
  
Kuroo, as always, has to ruin the moment. "Agh, what the fuck!" he yells, covering his eyes as he spots them. Akaashi blushes furiously and scrambles away from Bokuto, standing up and dusting off bits of grass and dirt. His mother's going to kill him for staining his yukata.  
  
"Congratulations." Kenma says with interest, alternating between looking at their flushed faces and the fireworks.  
  
Later, when they're on their way back and things are significantly less awkward, Akaashi silently thanks the shrines he passes.  
  
The same way they first met, they walk home together with the street lamps flickering on, clasped hands swinging between them with a whole new meaning.

**Author's Note:**

> follow my twitter @nekvma thx fellas


End file.
